


Hunt of the Bloodwolves

by 000TragicSolitude



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26905063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/000TragicSolitude/pseuds/000TragicSolitude
Summary: In the aftermath of the Battle of Endor, the Rebel Alliance transitions into the New Republic and the Galactic Empire is thrown into disarray, devolving into multiple splinter groups jockeying for power over their territories while the former Rebellion claims victory after victory - among the splintered groups is the Eriadu Authority, a military junta led by Admiral Sander Delvardus, eager to secure and project his power. A hastily-formed New Republic fleet is assigned to bring down the warlord and free the worlds of the Eriadu Authority from the grip of the Empire - among the strike force is Bloodwolf Squadron, a group of unique pilots that will prove themselves to be instrumental in taking down the Imperials over the course of the war.
Kudos: 1





	1. 01

**_A long time ago, in a galaxy, far, far away ..._ **

  
  
  
  


_ "Today is a day of celebration. We have triumphed over villainy and oppression and have given our Alliance—and the galaxy beyond it—a chance to breathe and cheer for the progress in reclaiming our freedom from an Empire that robbed us of it." -  _ Admiral Gial Ackbar

  
  
Due to the design of the starship’s bridge, Commander Cora Obrinn was able to look down and observe the barren world of obsidian rock and endless streams of lava that covered the planet of Sullust through the glass below her command chair - it was a fine way to pass the time while the  _ Visionary _ , the MC75 Mon Calamari Star Cruiser under her command, was being resupplied and refueled once again, along with the rest of the battle group. She shifted her gaze and watched the bulky Assault Frigate, Corellian corvettes and the two Nebulon frigates hovering alongside the Star Cruiser as transports and auxiliary ships descended down from Sullust’s surface. 

An  _ Arquitens _ -class command cruiser stood out among the Mirialan woman’s fleet, a vessel captured from the Empire during the liberation of Sterdic IV that occurred over two weeks after Endor. It still wasn’t in the most pristine condition that was expected of Imperial warships, but it was much feasible to commandeer smaller ships than an entire Star Destroyer. It was necessary, as even if this fledgling Alliance was transitioning into a New Republic, the thousands and millions of the Empire’s soldiers were still out no matter how uncoordinated and split they were - the rebels had no capacity to produce warships of their own on a large scale, but they had no choice to keep the momentum up. To be fair, they were succeeding so far and that gave her some confidence in the operation she was going to lead her people through. 

She was pulled out of this contemplative onlooking by a visitor to the bridge, turning to be met by a human woman uniformed in pilot’s gear and her helmet held under her right arm - as she expected, the commander was seeing Rana Zeren, leader of Bloodwolf Squadron, one of the starfighter units attached to the battle group. Cora already briefed Rampant, Nomad

‘’It’s been a shorter supply run this time,’’ Rana announced plainly, “We’re ready to move out again.’’

“That’s good to hear,” She stood up and activated the holographic projection of a number of star systems upon her planning board, “That means your squadron’s free too.’’ 

Rana always gave off a striking impression - the tall woman’s expression was unmoving, her emerald eyes always focused and unwavering in the face of others. 

“I take it we’ll be looking for a base ?’’ She asked. 

‘’That’s the idea,” She looked upon the large array of planets showcased upon the map, most of which were those that were believed to be under the control, direct or not, of the Eriadu Authority - she once assumed that be a name given by High Command for simplicity’s sake, but it was in reality the title granted by its very own leader, Imperial Admiral Sander Delvardus. 

“And I think we’ve found the perfect place,” She focused on particular sector and one particular world, the map presenting the planet’s astrographical and physical information, ‘’Arbra.’’

“What’s so special about it ?” 

“There doesn't seem to  _ be _ anything special about it, and that’s why it’s a good pick,” For an unknown reason, information on Arbra was limited, but what was known was promising. No dangerous wildlife, with its only native species listed as ‘’Hoojibs’’ that were described as ‘’non-threatening’’. That description would imply them to just be animals, but she couldn’t know for sure just yet. “Remote enough and untouched. We’ve got everything we need to set up camp.”

The point was that it was far enough that chances of an Imperial attack were low, yet it was still relatively close enough that it would be a good staging area for her forces to hit key targets in the Eriadu Authority from. Considering the Alliance’s history with remote, undercover bases, it was surprising that Arbra was overlooked until now even though it was on the list of potential replacements for Echo Base some time after the evacuation of Hoth. But the galaxy was quite a large place and circumstances. After all, they were all rebels that didn’t expect to now be fighting a full-scale war more often on their own terms instead of the Empire’s. 

"Sullust’s already good enough, isn’t it ?” Rana asked, clearly unconvinced by the suggestion of Arbra, “If we leave it for Arbra, it’ll be vulnerable.’’ 

Despite the fact that a small force was left behind in Sullust’s defense, Cora knew that Rana was somewhat correct, “Maybe so, but the chances of Delvardus striking back at it will be reduced if we use Arbra as a staging area instead. It’s close to Eriadu, but Delvardus’ probably going to be too busy worrying about protecting what he’s already got instead of Sullust or whatever else for the time being.  _ We’re  _ the ones going on the offensive. That’ll keep his attention. Besides, it’s inconvenient to circle back to Sullust after every mission.’’ 

“By going on the offensive, I hope you don’t mean taking more potshots.” 

Cora’s patience as a commander was useful when dealing with Rana, whom she had served with for quite a while by now. Rana was once a field commander herself before her role as a squadron leader in the Alliance, often giving her own input that was influenced by her intense drive to take down Imperials. 

So far, the operation against the Authority had started off with a few small skirmishes with minor Imperial patrols and supply convoys, but Obrinn’s battle group had a number of objectives to secure during this crusade upon this Imperial splinter group, such as Eriadu itself. However, the Mirialan was going to be honest, ‘’Direct assaults won’t do us any good. Careful planning, that’s all it is. If we’re going to take down Delvardus, we’ll have to do it little by little. It’s tactics that worked for us before.’’

“I know,” The squadron leader’s impatience was showing, “I’m just worried about how long this is going to take.’’ 

‘’As long as necessary,” Obrinn understood the sentiment, considering that while her battle group was taking on Delvardus, the war with the Empire was raging across the rest of the galaxy as well, and it won’t give up so easily, “What happened at Endor and the ripples its sending to people across the galaxy feels like a miracle, but we can’t let it get to our heads. We’ve still got a long fight ahead of us.’’ 

The commander went quiet for a moment before switching focus to another planet on the map, “The fleet’s setting course to Arbra, but I’d like you to accompany a transport to Queyta - it was said to be a former base from the Clone War. Assuming that’s true and if there’s anything to find, it’ll be a salvage mission. Sullustan Starchasers signed up for escort, but you’ll provide extra security.’’

‘’It seems a bit overkill.’’ 

‘’And maybe I’m giving Delvardus too much credit, but there’s nothing disproving that he’s going to increase patrols in response to us poking around on his turf, even around places like Queyta. If the coast is clear, let the salvagers do their work and then join us at Arbra. If there’s trouble, make sure the transport leaves safely and then come back to us immediately. No need to get into a drawn-out fight. You’ll have the coordinates to Arbra.’’ 

‘’Roger.’’ 

Before the squadron leader left, Obrinn made sure to remind her of something else, “We’ve got new people onboard. I’ve made sure to arrange a transfer for an addition to Bloodwolf.’’ 

‘’So I’ve heard.” 

‘’Ron’s already met her. Treat her well,’’ Cora was aware that Bloodwolf Squadron had been a four-man unit ever since it was created, even if the personal reasons for why Rana had chosen to leave it that way escaped her, “I’ll need you all at full strength.’’ 

Rana left in silence. Cora was left alone again in thought. On the one hand, she was glad if Arbra proved to be a suitable location for a ground base, as she was growing tired of being confined to the bridge of the  _ Visionary  _ for so long. On the other end of the spectrum, even despite her age and her having grown somewhat accustomed to the role of commander since her time in the Judicial Forces of the Republic of the past, she would be lying to herself if being given complete authority and leading an entire battle group into the fire didn’t set off a million of alarms and worries within her, no matter how much planning and precautions were taken. 

Her forces would be acting on their own for quite some, but she wasn’t completely oblivious to other operations undertaken by the New Republic elsewhere. She received reports, albeit vague so far, of an engagement firing off over Naboo. It was likely stray Imperials looking to claim the homeworld of the deceased Emperor for legitimacy to the succession to the throne, but that wasn’t Obrinn’s concern at the moment. 

  
  
  
  


As she walked out of the bridge, Rana’s head pulsated with a number of conflicting thoughts - everything from the nature of the large-scale, likely long-winded operation against Delvardus and the more personal matter of an addition to Bloodwolf Squadron to fill up the spot of Bloodwolf Two that had been vacant ever since some time after the destruction of the first Death Star when Bloodwolf was first created. The circumstances that led to that particular decision were things she wanted to bury within her mind, along with the emotions that came with it. Her eyes were met by an older human man named Ron Howland, acting as Bloodwolf Four and the one whom she founded the squadron with in the first place.

‘’How’d the meeting go ?’’ He asked, with the same tone that he applied to anything else, calm and soft. 

‘’Well enough,” Even despite the objections Rana might’ve had, the Mirialan commander had her hands full, “We’ve picked Arbra as headquarters. It’s a quiet place in the middle of nowhere, judging from what Obrinn’s dug up on it. As for us, it’ll be escort duty for a salvage mission.’’ 

‘’Well, not the most thrilling mission,’’ He chuckled lightly, “But it’s a nice break from the recent fighting, I suppose. A little calm before the storm.’’ 

Rana felt hesitant to bring up the new pilot, but it wasn’t something she could ultimately, “Obrinn told me you’ve met our new pilot.” 

‘’Sure have,” Ron was particularly good at picking up the emotions of others around him without words, he understood Zeren’s troubles very well, “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine. Good kid, pretty headstrong.’’

That seemed to imply that the pilot was quite young, which didn’t help to ease the squadron leader, “I hope so.’’

  
  
  


The massive Mon Calamari city-ships were always a wondrous sight - unlike the capital ships of the Empire that were created to instill fear and submission through their mere presence alone, Mon Cala ships often inspired awe and admiration. That symbolism was central to the Rebel Alliance and now the New Republic. Pilot Lyren Dalle pondered on this as she was approaching the MC75 Star Cruiser  _ Visionary _ , the flagship of a fleet destined to fight against a splinter group of the Empire. She would be transferred to the Bloodwolf Squadron, but she felt rather unsure about the situation.  Traffic control guided her A/SF-01 B-wing as it passed through the overlapping shield to settle into the large docking bay, which used to be a civic atrium when the Star Cruiser was but a city on Mon Calamari. Everything went fast after her landing, as she was greeted by Ron Howland, one of the members of her new unit before he went away to handle other matters.

Her back pressed against the hull of her starfigher, the dark-haired female spent her time waiting around her starfighter, passively observing technicians, droids and pilots at work. The girl of short stature was pulled out of her boredom by being called out by another pilot - a male Zabrak, who seemed to be more carefree from the way he carried himself and his expression, greeted. He possessed the pronounced horns that identified him as a Zabrak. The patterns lightly visible across the light skin of his face seemed to be tattoos, and his lightish brown eyes were inviting.

“Hey,’’ He spoke casually, as if Lyren was someone who’d he had known onboard the ship for years, “I got the word from Ron. You’re new, right ?” 

“Yeah.’’ 

“Well, then,’’ He extended his hand, “I’m Haro.’’ 

“Lyren,” She accepted the gesture and shook his hand, feeling glad that formalities weren’t an issue so far, “My last post was at- 

“Haro,” Another male voice interjected, much sterner and orderly compared to the smoothness and openness of the Zabrak’s. The source came from a human man with a strict, stiff posture. The hazel-eyed pilot with light, blondish keenly-kept hair seemed somewhat annoyed with the Zabrak and didn’t send a glance to Lyren’s way. It appeared that he was closer to Lyren’s age than the Zabrak, who eclipsed them both. 

“I thought I told you to keep with regular maintenance,” The man said. 

‘’Relax,’’ Haro brushed him off, though it seemed like this wasn’t the first time, “Droids can handle it.’’ 

“Oh, right,” A realization visibly hit the Zabrak as he looked at Leru and then back at Lyren, “Here’s Leru, the  _ joy of the team _ , as you can see. He’s Bloodwolf Five, I’m Three.’’ 

Leru’s gaze finally hit her for a moment, and a wave of awkward discomfort hit her - she wasn’t sure if she was making a good impression on him as his expression was rather indiscernible, all she could do was offer a simple greeting, “Hey ..’’ 

That was the extent of that interaction, as it was cut short by the arrival of the man who introduced himself to Lyren as Ron Howland, accompanied by another woman. Lyren already had a positive impression of the welcoming older man with hints of grey hairs across his head and beard, as he was welcoming and gave off an impression of someone whom anyone could trust. It seemed like he’d been around everywhere, with countless stories to tell. 

“Leru’s not so wrong, you know,” He addressed the Zabrak, “Taking care of your ship is important, so’s not skipping work.’’ 

The woman accompanying Ron looked over Lyren - her general attitude was similar to that of Leru, although with the extensive experience of Ron to back it up. Maybe from her perspective, Lyren was simply one of many younger pilots she had encountered. People from all walks of life came to the Alliance, and this older woman appeared as one of those who was fighting long before the Alliance’s time. 

“Meet Rana Zeren, Dalle, our boss,” Ron said with a half-smile. The revelation of this person being her superior officer gave her the reflex to stand at attention and introduce herself, even though she didn’t sound nearly as assertive as she wanted to be, “Lyren Dalle … ma’am.’’ 

The taller woman with short, auburn hair looked at her for another moment in thought, finally speaking with an undertone of weariness, “You’ve been flying for long ?” 

‘’A few years,’’ She responded, but didn’t really expect this sort of evaluation, “I’ve been with Yellow Group for a while.’’ 

Rana Zeren turned her attention to the whole squadron, “Load up and get ready. We’re moving it soon. It’s an escort job to Queyta.’’ 

_ "Escort  _ duty ?” Haro asked, in exaggerated disbelief, “What are we, fresh off of training ? I signed up to blow up Star Destroyers.” 

“You heard the lady,” Ron said as the pilots rushed off to their ships - the old man assuredly tapped Lyren on the shoulder before walking off, “You’ve got your first job with us, and there’s never a dull moment when you’re a Bloodwolf.’’ 

The former farm girl with longer and rather unkempt hair was left alone for a moment amidst the business of the hangar bay surrounding her, wondering about her position in this new squadron. Normally, transfers wouldn’t be noteworthy, especially when it comes to specific missions, but she was rather used to the close-knit group she was attached to ever since her start as a pilot with the Alliance before this. But things were changing, so Lyren only hoped that she could just adjust to Bloodwolf despite being a stranger to these pilots that already knew each other for who knows how long. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. 02

The alternate dimension of hyperspace that encompassed ships within a blue tunnel, achievable by travelling at the speed of light from the vessels’ hyperdrives with the purpose to send ships from one destination to another, smoothly transitioned into realspace again. Calculated jumps were a mere routine for pilots over the course of history, although the perception of it depended on the individual - Rana used the experience to mentally drift away for hours to think, but she didn’t really remember much of what she thought about once the routine was over after a few hours while her pilots talk amongst themselves in that time. It was usually a friendly back-and-forth between Ron Howland and Haro Dara, as Leru Eldar wasn’t the talkative type much like Rana - Lyren Dalle mostly kept to herself, only putting herself out there once Ron pulled her in. 

_ “Don’t worry much about making a good impression,” _ Ron had said genially, _ “Just don’t lose your head when you fly and blast your targets to bits, and you’ll be fine with us.”  _

_ “I’ll try.”  _

During the trip, Rana briefly wondered about what she could’ve said to the new, young pilot herself as squadron leader. Rana, Ron, Leru and Haro had been the Bloodwolves together for almost five years at this point, so she did feel a responsibility to approach Lyren herself, especially since her time in the squadron kicked off with a mission so soon. She ended up ignoring it at this moment - she’ll listen about whatever issues may come up and do her job, but she’d always keep a certain distance between her and her pilots, even with Ron, whom she had once shared a moment of vulnerability with. She just needed Lyren to fly and come back. 

The first group to jump out of hyperspace was the salvage group from Sullust, followed by the Bloodwolves with some distance behind them - Bloodwolf stuck in formation, the T-65B X-wings of Ron and Leru and the heavy B-wings of Leryn and Haro surrounding Rana. From the wide view of the armoured cockpit of her T-65B X-wing, she observed the planet of Queyta. From orbit, much like Sullust, it was a world of lava streams, but it appeared that the surface of Queyta was but molten rock instead of Sullust’s glossy obsidian. 

The salvage group was led by a sole, rusty GR-75 transport and escorted closely by a four-man squadron of light-armored and flat R-41 Starchaser starfighters deployed from Sullust. Outdated starfighters like Starchasers were once a more common sight among rebel cells of the past and the early days of the Alliance until more advanced ships came around to outmatch the Empire in terms of quality instead of quantity. They might have still been popular among pirates or other independent groups, but they were reduced to reserves within the Alliance and now the New Republic for worlds like Sullust. 

“I don’t blame them for calling us for extra security anymore with those things around,” Haro said through the comms, eager to mock the fighters, “I remember flying in those old trash heaps myself.’’ 

“Still better than uglies.’’ Lyren interjected. 

“Ship building is an art, uglies included,” Ron’s reminiscence was clear from his voice alone, “I’d see a bunch of kids looking to be spacers back home on Corellia cobbling real uglies together from scrapped TIEs and whatever other scrap the Imps dumped from the Santhe shipyards. Some of those things could even fly.”

“Must’ve been inspiring.” That would be the only comment Rana would provide. She wanted to feel like she shared the sentiment, but there weren't any rapturous memories that were worth reminiscing about for her with others, at least none that she had the will to dig up.

…

Queyta was home to an abandoned Separatist base, but that wasn’t the only way that the uninhabited planet served as a sort of historic monument to the Clone Wars of the past. Lyren Dalle observed the numerous clusters of debris that floated around the planet’s orbit, remnants of everything from starfighters to full warships blasted and broken down into countless pieces from a war that seemed ancient by now to those like her who only knew the age of the Empire by the time they had grown up to comprehend such things. Looking at a sharp-nosed chunk of what was a probably a capital ship, her parents’ tales of a fierce Jedi warrior and the heroic white-clad faceless soldiers of the old Republic defending their homeworld of Dantooine against hordes of weaponised battle droids ran through her mind, making her think that the sheer magnitude of the Clone Wars eclipsed whatever she had seen, even Endor. 

There was always an eeriness for Lyren when flying amidst such sights, as she knew that many beings had once crewed these ships and lost their lives here. She heard tales of people feeling the presence or even hearing the voices of the dead in these floating graveyards. Lyren wasn’t superstitious, but the idea of anguished voices calling out to her at the debris left after the Battle of Endor, be it the thousands of Imperials once aboard the second Death Star and their Star Destroyers or her former comrades from Yellow Squadron, was chilling. 

With these passing thoughts and conversations with the Corellian and the Zabrak, she felt at ease on what was for now a mundane mission. That changed when her starfighter’s sensor array went off, but Leru, who was silent until now, was the first to pick up on it without any distress in his voice, “We have incoming.’’ 

In the distance, Lyren now stared at the distinctive frame of an Imperial cruiser-carrier using the wreckage as cover like a wild predator among the bushes, its prey being the transport. They had probably jumped out of lightspeed at this moment, or perhaps had stayed out of range and sight until now. It was almost strange to not see a Star Destroyer looming over them ahead again considering how ubiquitously they were employed against the rebels in the past. 

“Can’t see any eyeballs just yet …” Haro said anxiously, followed by Rana Zeren’s X-wing accelerating towards the transport and the rest of the squadron doing the same - the squadron locked their S-foils in attack position, following Rana’s command, “Probably a patrol. Priority is to cover the transport to let it get away from the fire, then it’s our turn.’’

“We’re not sticking to finish ‘em off, huh ?” Lyren picked up on Haro’s disappointment - she didn’t share the sentiment, because there didn’t seem to be much of a point to taking on the cruiser-carrier and its array of fighters that it likely contained all the way out here. Lyren kept her sights on the transport, but she could’ve blinked and missed one of the Starchasers being shredded by a flurry of green fire and the GR-75’s hull being assaulted by concussion missiles originating from a starfighter that Lyren didn’t recognize. She could identify three sets of wings mounted around an aft section of the cockpit from a standard TIE. 

“Karabast !” Ron exclaimed to no one in particular upon seeing what she was seeing, “Is that what I think it is ?” 

The unidentified craft’s sheer speed was striking as the other Starchasers scrambled to chase it down and the GR-75 began to maneuver to try to avoid fire. Rana cursed, unable to communicate with the R-41s and the transport from jamming. Their path to the transport was cut off by incoming fire - Lyren’s sensors picked them up before she realized what was happening as her fighter’s shields were grazed by ambushing Imperials that navigated through a distant, smaller debris cluster to get to the New Republic squadron, a pack of speedy TIE Interceptors. 

The five Bloodwolves instinctively scattered to avoid fire from the enemy units equaling them in number, but Rana took control of the situation, “Stay together ! We’ll fly through the debris to lose them and get to the transport !” 

The Interceptors, almost possessed in their intensity, were working together to cut off Bloodwolf from the path to save their allies as much as they could. In the moment, luring the dagger-winged enemy fighters into the graveyard with them didn't seem completely unsound - their speed eclipsed that of the Bloodwolves’ ships for sure, but if Lyren understood Rana’s thinking, then that wild speed could send them crashing amidst the maze of debris and end their crazed hunt. But it wasn’t like it also wasn’t a risk for the rebels.

Lyren’s hands on her controls shook as small pieces and bits of steel bounced off against the hull of her B-wing as she put power to the ship’s Kyromaster engine to try to put some distance between her and her pursuer on top of navigating through the graveyard. 

“Don’t lose sight of each other,” Rana urged them - if she was nervous, Lyren couldn’t hear it, “Follow my lead.”

“Easier said than done,” Haro grunted and cursed as Lyren glanced to find him avoiding rapid fire from his own pursuer, “Damn squints !”

Lyren’s focus was being thrown off-balance as six more Interceptors, encompassing the rest of the twelve-man Imperial squadron, rushed through and tore apart the remaining Starchasers and harassed the transport like hungry vultures, taking down its deflector shields. She saw the unknown TIE again, who had circled back around for another hit on the vessel. She couldn’t stop it from launching a set of guided proton torpedoes against the GR-75’s engines, watching the vessel descend in flames. 

“We’re jumping,” She could hear an undertone of frustration from Rana upon the imminent destruction of the transport group - the Bloowolves had evaded their respective Interceptors, but the Imperials still trailed Lyren’s B-wings in the rear. They might’ve packed a punch, but their speciality wasn’t dogfighting. 

The girl took advantage of the B-wing's unique gyroscopic control system that kept the cylindrical cockpit stationary as the rest of the fighter rotated around it to make it easier to navigate and avoid fire. 

''Lyren, you're falling behind,'' Rana called out in concern, but Lyren could only continue to follow the woman's lead in to escape the cluster - it took everything in her power to get through a sudden and sharp turn to follow the rest of Bloodwolf despite the blockade buster's somewhat poor turn rate, with the Interceptor still on her trail, "I'll shake him off !" 

Her pursuing TIE had held back from firing erratically before, only taking a shot once he believed he could land it. That changed as he unloaded his waves of laser cannon fire once he must've noticed that she was lagging behind the rest of her squadron, or as if he was losing his patience. In her mind's eye, Lyren could envision the pilot in the stuffy uniform with her B-wing as a prime target for his targeting computer. 

Her breathing accelerated as her shields took some passing hits, but large chunks from the rear of what was probably once an _ Arquitens _ -class light cruiser presented her with an opportunity. She stabilized herself, urging the TIE to keep following her - she'd continue to rotate the starfighter, following it up by unleashed bursts from the starboard's wing powerful SW-7a ion to blast the wreckage in her way, taking another brisk maneuver to avoid the impact of the bright blast at the last few moments. She flew past the exploding, burning debris that she created, but it was too late for the TIE to avoid. The flying wreckage had collided against one of the Interceptor’s angular wings and destroying it, along with the rest of the hull being pierced by a multitude of shrapnel. The pilot lost control and the fighter careened into the wreckage, briefly bursting into flames. 

Lyren's heartbeat returned to normal and she could breathe again, watching Haro ahead of her spinning wildly and leaving his pursuer unable to keep up, his fragile fighter's left wing also suffering a collision accident. But the squint had slowed down, keeping the rest of his ship intact and left slowly to drift until his comrades would probably pick him up. Lyren didn't mentally register the chatter among her squadron before they jumped to lightspeed as the other Interceptors were catching up, watching the burning and helpless transport. She caught a glimpse of the unknown TIE model again that she could spot with blood red stripes decorated upon its three sets of wings, flying steadily with its flock of crazed Interceptors. The view around her turned into a serene blue as Bloodwolf Squadron retreated out of the system. 

  
  


…

  
  


Leon Alder was immensely satisfied with the performance of the TIE/d “Defender” which he had the pleasure of flying again as he assaulted the rebel ship along with its escort and destroyed its means of escape. It had indeed been only a transport escorted by starfighters of much poorer quality, but the wondrous combination of speed, sheer power of the heavy cannons, missiles and the maneuverability on top of it all spoke for itself. 

He had grown more than used to it after previous decisive strikes on the increasing number of pirates and raiders recently, supported by subordinates in Zeta Squadron. He received confirmation that Zeta Three had been destroyed while in pursuit of the second rebel squadron and that Zeta Two had been left floating among the debris cluster, their starfighter probably beyond repair.

“The rebel fighters have jumped to lightspeed,” The communication with Zeta Two was still functional, although strained - the woman in the damaged, immobile fighter clearly put herself at blame from the harsh tone of her voice, “I’m sorry, Major.’’ 

“No need, Lieutenant,” Leon worked to circumvent some of the more typical doctrines from the Imperial Starfighter Corps within Zeta Squadron, such as the belief that a single failure such as this amidst a dogfight in these circumstances was shameful and catastrophic, “You’re alive, so that’s enough. We’ll approach this more efficiently once the next opportunity arises, and the next one after that if needed.’’ 

“Yes, sir.’’ She responded begrudgingly.

Zeta Squadron was founded from younger pilots Leon had selected and took under his wing, training them to counter rebel starfighters in the manner Leon had done in the past of his career with other squadrons. He favoured aggressiveness and coordination, but even though the rebels had escaped, the pilots of Zeta had pressed them to the brink and he was confident that the engagement would’ve turned in their favour if the enemy hadn’t lured them into the debris fields. 

It was a move that brought back Leon’s memories of the grand victories of the past at Atollon or the Mako-Ta Space Docks - the rebels were truly adept at running away. He had called the  _ Quasar Fire _ -class cruiser-carrier  _ Hunter  _ to pick up  _ Zeta Two _ , a fine ship that certainly wasn’t without its flaws, but was perfectly suited for a ship to carry fighters to carry out missions that mirrored the tactics of the rebels to make up for its lack of grandiose and power compared to a Star Destroyer that typical Imperial commanders insisted on throwing against the Rebellion with little regard to pragmatism.  The  _ Hunter  _ had been the mobile homebase of Zeta for some time now, a role it would no doubt continue to fulfill in response to the increasing reported presence of the rebels among the edges of the Eridu Authority. He would continue to guide and lead the intrepid pilots of Zeta, assured of future victories to come. 

  
  
  



	3. 03

The Hunter exited out of hyperspace, facing the green and brown Outer Rim world of Sluis Van. From the viewport of the cruiser-carrier’s bridge where he stood, Leon Alder observed the huge wheel-shaped orbital shipyards that hovered over the planet, filled with hangard and docking bays. Installations like these like these were said to be on par with those of Leon’s homeworld of Kuat, but the man would always believe that nothing could compare to Kuat’s immense ring that encircled its entire planet. But in the end, they all served the Empire well. 

Two Star Destroyers and support ships vigilantly guarded the shipwards, with another ISD docked to one of the installations. The Hunter approached one of the capital ships that the ace pilot knew was the Illustrious of the Imperial I-class, even if the differences between the ships of its class were virtually indiscernible from its more common successor. 

“Illustrious, this is Major Leon Alder,” The man hailed the capital ship, “Requesting permission for the Hunter to dock for resupply.” 

“Permission granted,” A young male voice shortly responded, “Welcome back, Baron Alder, sir.”

Baron, Leon repeated the word in his mind - even now, many referred to the man with the vaunted title granted to him by Admiral Delvardus as respect for his skills, even though he had felt no need to boast about such a status (even though he enjoyed the recognition for his past accomplishments) and instead continued to carry on as pilot like he did before. Although, the women of high status on Eriadu were quite fond of such a title. The cruiser-carrier, escorted by one of the TIE patrols, navigated to dock at the nearest orbital station. The crew felt the impact of the station’s large couplings attaching themselves to their ship’s hull, securing it. 

Leon turned away from the viewport to head off, met by the young dark-haired Lieutenant Nadia- Zeta Two -whom he had forgotten was there until now due to her quiet presence and the solemn air she always sought to give off as an Imperial pilot, stiff as Leon once was as a cadet on Carida in front of his superiors. He’d notice her hiding away her troubles by staring off into the void of space once keeping the stern facade in front of others was probably getting too taxing, a habit Leon picked up on over time but would never comment on. 

He wondered if her mind was still preoccupied over the scuffle at Queyta and the loss of Zeta Three, but he had already given her reassurance back then. He’d resist the urge to do it again, as it would be for her to get over for the sake of their squadron’s collective performance to compensate for the loss. Leon didn’t dismiss it out of heartlessness, it just made sense - he’d transfer from command to one unit to another over the years after so many pilots had inevitably been wiped out, whose faces and names he had forgotten by now. It would interfere with his duties. He wanted Nadia to do the same. 

“I’ll request a replacement for your fighter, Lieutenant,’’ He realized that he was speaking just a bit too freely again as she snapped at attention and he lightly put his hand over her shoulder, “It shouldn’t take long. In the meantime, you’ll take the squadron for some rest until we’re back on the Hunter, assuming any amount of downtime can be found on this station.’’ 

In truth, Leon would welcome a break from the sweat of the flight uniform and the incessant hissing from the breathing tubes of its stuffy helmet, but Nadia didn’t seem to find as much relief in it as he did and her demeanor didn’t change, “Yes, sir. We’ll remain on standby.’’

The look that he caught in her focused hazel eyes essentially communicated; rest is the last thing I need, whether she was aware of it or not. He at least had to admire the dedication, it was one of the reasons he was fond of her aside from her piloting. 

Leon was left alone to ponder upon his soon-to-be meeting with the commanding officer of the Illustrious, Commodore Bertran, whom he hoped would shed some light on the questions weighing on Leon’s mind. Delvardus has made considerable efforts to consolidate and lock down the territory that would form the Eriadu Authority from the rest of the galaxy following the engagement at Endor to limit and control the flow of information. Despite that, worrying rumors travelled through them that the Rebellion’s influence was growing across the galaxy. 

It could’ve meant that the trap set by the Emperor's massive fleet at Endor, specifically constructed to decisively put an end to the cornered remains of the rebels through the sheer power of his fleet, had somehow failed. It was an implication that Leon didn’t wish to entertain. He wasn’t delusional and the reality was that a fair share of defeats had occurred in the past, but such a potential disaster was out of the question, he thought. 

But then again, intrusive thoughts settled in further, the Death Star was also thought to be invincible before they blew it up.

…

Within the cold and dark halls of the Star Destroyer’s finely-constructed command bridge, Commodore Hiroki Bertran found himself looking absentmindedly into the void of deep space through the viewport, a void that allowed his mind to drift and visualize memories from various points across time. His mind raced with hazy images of his service in the dying Republic against fleets of Separatist cruisers from Praesitlyn, Anaxes to Coruscant itself - it jumped to the earliest years of the Empire into the campaign of the Western Reaches as Bertran contributed to destroying the holdouts of the Separatist Alliance along with pirates and slavers. 

He was in his sixties and reminiscence of this nature on past proud military victories and shameful losses would’ve been appropriate had he been in quiet retirement by now, but that wasn't the case. He was pulled out of his quiet moment of reflection and glanced over to the fresh-faced technicians and officers at their monitors in the elongated pits below him. Unlike them, Bertran had been confidentiality made aware by Delvardus’ personal aide that -despite the Admiral’s reassuring messages to the troops and populace of the contrary- not only had the war with the rebels not been decisively finished, but that the Emperor was dead. 

He strolled to the small room behind the bridge hidden by a blast door, opening up to unveil a Lieutenant of his conversing with a striking golden-haired and dark blue-eyed man in a flight uniform with his helmet under his arm, a contrast to the Commodore due to his age range in the late twenties to early-thirties. The red stripes upon his helmet and the sleeves of his flight suit reminded all of his status as flight baron, a title awarded to him in a bloated military parade on Eriadu by Sander Delvardus. 

“You were quite right about Queyta being a place of interest to them, Commodore,” They had moved on to cover Leon Alder’s recent encounter over the lava world after an arrangement to supply the Major’s cruiser-currier with an available TIE Interceptor (although Alder didn’t elaborate on the reason why the original fighter was damaged in such a way), “Although it was pure luck that we’ve encountered the rebel group at that moment.’’

“It was an educated guess, but based on what we’ve established on the Rebellion’s pattern of thinking before,” Hiroki said plainly as the holographic imaging table before him illuminated with numerous small blue dots for planets and smaller red dots than those illustrating recent rebel sightings, “Some small strikes on convoys have also been reported - nothing significant enough to put a dent and yet small enough to lure us so that we expose ourselves.’’ 

“A few potshots followed by a wild bantha chase that leads to either nowhere or a trap is nothing new,” The baron, cross-armed, shrugged and glanced over the map with one location interesting him in particular, “But we have a clear reason to fight on our own terms. That reason is Sullust. Admiral Delvardus must be surely be aware of it - I’m sure you’re also aware how many people are itching to take it back into our hands, sir.’’ 

Sullust was present on the map, directly connected to Eriadu through the Rimma Trade Route. Once saved from the clutches of the Separatists, but ultimately lost to the rebels and locals through the bloody siege of Inyusu Tor that the Empire had done nothing to rectify once so many resources had been lost. Thanks to that, every day presented a possible risk of an assault from Sullust towards Eriadu itself. 

“No matter how much of an obvious target it may be,” Bertran was forced to relay the official word to the pilot, “The directive is to stand firm. We are capable of fighting on our own terms by letting the rebels foolishly dare to come to us and be wiped out.” 

Even if striking Sullust meant leaving Sluis Van or Eriadu with minimal protection for even a moment and a number of other variables, he would doubt that the Rebellion’s defenses over Sullust, if any, were capable of standing up to a sudden assault of Star Destroyers. Leon went silent for a moment as he looked at the map - for the short time the Commodore had come to know him, he wondered if the baron’s habit of expressing himself came from a position of self-importance.

“It may not be appropriate for me to say,” The pilot chose his words carefully, “But if the Emperor’s intention was to effectively put an end to the Rebellion and if it was successful, then none of this precaution would be necessary. Especially when we have a prize in front of us that could be so easy to claim, yet we wait.’’

Perhaps the Major may have had his own doubts on the aftermath of Endor, Bertran thought, but the old man would speak in half-truths, “The reality is that there has been a setback, Major, as even the Emperor is not infallible.’’ 

An officer approached and quietly informed the Commodore of an incoming transmission that had no choice but to respond to - the imaging table’s display of dots quickly phased into a fuzzy representation of a figure with an admiral’s rank insignia plaque and other decorations devoid of meaning strapped across the lanky and pale man’s uniform. Admiral Delvardus was flanked by the small figure of his personal aide, the silent ISB agent in her white uniform and a cybernetic AJ^6 cyborg construct fixed on the backside of the dark-haired woman's head.

“I trust that the fleet is in peak condition as ever under your command, Commodore,” The admiral had spared the older man from his pointless formalities - Delvardus had once married into the Tarkin family, but unlike the architect behind the Death Star, Betran could always see through the man’s dignified pompousness and find a deluded monomania hidden under it instead, “And I have been made aware of your brief encounter with rebel stragglers at Queyta, Baron Alder.’’ 

“It was nothing of note, Admiral,” Alder stood proud and spoke firmly, “But the Defender once proved itself to be quite a fearsome fighter. I thank you for it.” 

“I was certain that a pilot of your caliber would make full use of it,” Delvardus’ pride showed, “I expect your skills to be instrumental to confront the troubles ahead, as well as yours, Commodore.” 

As the talks went on, Bertran could feel the ISB agent’s gaze dwell on him - perhaps she was assessing the old man’s demeanor to uncover if the truth that he carried of the Emperor’s passing had affected him in any noticeable way. After all, she was the one who privately shared the truth with him for reasons he didn’t know. 

“While it is regrettable, but the rebellion is still at large throughout the galaxy despite our Emperor’s past successes,” Delvardus announced, “Their desperation and those of their sympathizers has led them to carry out violent strikes on Vardos and Naboo, both valued worlds of our Empire. They are now on the doorstep of the territory under my watch, even though I’ve taken precautions to protect our citizens from the insurgents’ influence. I expect you all to be vigilant in dealing with the looming threat and destroy it swiftly.’’ 

“I assure you that it will be done to the best of our abilities, Admiral,” He felt little confidence in his statement as the imaging table’s holographic lights flickered away into nothing, leaving him and the baron in silence. He had earlier caught the pilot’s passive expression shift to uncertainty once Delvardus made note of “violent strikes” on Vardos and Naboo, if only for a moment.

Bertran had shortly dismissed the Major to remain on standby with his squadron until further notice, leaving the Commodore to stare into nothing in particular and ponder on the absurdity of it all. The reality is that there has been a setback, he had said to Leon Alder, but the truth was far grimmer than that. It was more than a setback, but a failure of a momentous scale that cost the Emperor his life and left the Empire with no true successor. The only thing Palpatine had left in his wake was an operation to purge entire worlds - Vardos and Naboo had not been attacked by the Rebellion, but were besieged by Imperial forces carrying out the Emperor’s will to turn planets into cinder. Hiroki Bertran grip on the imaging table as if he could somehow crush it with his hands alone, but he couldn’t. He felt the fire spark inside him to wage war like in the days of old, but he was stuck in motion because of Eriadu’s self-serving warlord. All he could do now was let his anger permeate within him as his mind pondered on what the state of the Empire that he had helped build could be now and in the future.


End file.
